Attack of the Moody Slavic Wig
by Illogic's Lovechild Chevara
Summary: Chekov's wig finally snaps. Here's the story of Yeoman Samara Jang, a redshirt who survived the ordeal. (BTW, I luv Chekov a lot more than she does!)


Title: Attack of the Moody Slavic Wig  
  
Author: Chevara Chan *  
  
Summary: Chekov's wig finally snaps. Here's the story of a redshirt who survived the ordeal.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: Star Trek is not mine. Oh, how Chevish (hehe, my word) it would be if I did...  
  
Others?? I like Cheetos. I like Mountain Dew. I like wild fashion and yummy lip gloss. BUT I DON'T LIKE FLAMES. Understand??  
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Personal Log  
  
Yeoman Samara Jang  
  
Stardate: Do I look like a girl who knows??  
  
The day was a normal day. The crew was a normal crew. My life was a normal life (well, normal for an underpaid, overworked yeoman who wears a tacky red dress that shows her behind every time she barely moves).  
  
Until...  
  
I was sent to the bridge with a couple things for my dear *captain* to look over and sign. While he was looking over the PADDs I handed him, I stared around the bridge. First of all, I hate the bridge crew (except for my *beloved* captain). I mean, wouldn't you hate a group of people who gets paid *way* more than you?? I think you would. As I was saying, I hate the bridge crew, but watching them work is kind of funny. Especially Ensign Pavel A. Chekov. C'mon, the guy's hilarious. That cheesy accent. Those goofy facial expressions. THE HAIR. People, anyone with eyes can tell it's a wig. Yet he says it's natural. Yeahhh, natural hair from a natural Klingon's butt!! Okay, okay, so I'm an occasional wig wearer (I call them extensions, but that's just me), but at least I look real. Chekov takes it over the top and back again.  
  
Well, as I was saying, it's so funny watching Chekov. Every time I go to the bridge, that's where my eyes are focused. He's my laugh for the day. I wouldn't make it in life without him. So, I was watching him today. He wasn't doing anything spectacular, just pushing a few buttons, turning a few knobs, and humming a Old Russian folk tune. Then, suddenly, his hair (a.k.a. shavings from a Klingon's butt razor), began to move. It twitched from side to side and made a squeaky sound. Okay, this just wasn't a wig, this was a *posessed* wig. I was freaked out.  
  
"Here you go, Yeoman," Captain Kirk tried to hand me the PADDs.  
  
"Yeoman, what's wrong??" he asked as he noticed me staring at Chekov. By now, his wig was gyrating and squeaking very loudly.  
  
"Captain!" I exclaimed. "Chekov's wig!!"  
  
At my last two words, the whole crew had their big, round eyes on Chekov. This time, his wig was jumping up and down on his head, gibbering wildly in what sounded like Russian (he's so obsessed with his homeland, he taught his headwear the native language). It was so freakin' funny, until it jumped completely off his head and *toward* me!!  
  
I was so afraid of it. I could see fangs on the dumb piece of hair!!! *SHARP* fangs. *SCARY* fangs. I'd never been attacked by a wig before.  
  
I did the first thing that came to mind. I grabbed my best friend, Ensign Suarez, out of his chair and threw him in front of me. The wig knocked him down, and bit his face. Five minutes later, he was dead (okay, I should've thrown Uhura in the line of fire...)  
  
"CAPTAIN, I'M TERRIFIED!!" Lieutenant Uhura exclaimed as she ran out of the bridge, crying. She's another one who makes me sick. (Also an in-the-closet wig wearer)  
  
"Chekov, you need to get your wig under control, or you shall get court-martialed!" Captain Kirk ordered.  
  
"Keptin...I dunno vhat happened," he said as he combed his fingers through his natural hair. He kinda looked good right then. I have no clue why he sports the wig, he has all kinds of amazingly gorgeous hair under it. Maybe he just don't like styling it?? I could do it for him!!  
  
"Well, get the wig under control!!"  
  
"I CAN'T!!"  
  
Suddenly, Spock spoke up.  
  
"Perhaps I should initiate a mind meld with Ensign Chekov's wig," he suggested.  
  
"If it will let you," Kirk sighed.  
  
Spock made his way toward the wig. He stood in front of it and placed his hand on it.  
  
"Our minds are merging...I think what you think...I know what you know," he chanted. Okay, a mind meld with a wig?? Do wigs even HAVE minds?? ILLOGICAL!!  
  
In the midst of the meld, the wig jumped on Spock's face. It bit his nose. Ha ha, Mr. Vulcan's goin' down!!  
  
"I am Vulcan...I am controlling the pain...I am Vulcan," he controlled the pain as he held to his nose, which had turquoise blood dripping down either side.  
  
"Chekov, are you sure you can't control your wig??" Kirk asked once again. You could tell he was at the end of his rope.  
  
Then, Lieutenant Sulu spoke up.  
  
"I have something I could try, Captain," he smiled.  
  
"Fire away.."  
  
He looked directly at the wig and said something sweetly in Japanese as he petted the wig. It began purring as he picked it up from mid air.  
  
"How'd you get it to do that, Mr. Sulu??" Kirk asked, astonished.  
  
He flipped the wig over and found a tag that said "Made In Japan".  
  
And Chekov said it "vas a Russian inwention??"  
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So now, I have to go. I have a date. With who, you ask?? I'll tell you...  
  
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Yes, I said *Pavel*. Why Pavel, you ask?? When I saw the man under the wig, I saw much more. Much, much more.  
  
I learned a valuable lesson today. Don't judge a book by it's cover (or would "Don't judge a Russian by his wig" be more appropriate??).  
  
Oh, and you wanna know what happened to the wig?? Pav finally lost his emotions for it, and let Dr. McCoy put it to sleep. It's on display in the sickbay, but Pavel said he'd talk McCoy into letting me have it. I'd like that.  
  
Well, this time I *really* have to go. I'll do another entry when the next wig attacks (maybe it'll be Uhura's...or maybe my extensions will go mad at the New Year's Ball??)  
  
It's all possible. 


End file.
